


Sing

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage lies back and thinks of the Order, Ben reads his mind, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, light side ben, or maybe washed-with-the-denims grey Ben, snoke-free zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Ben Solo, pilot and handyman, picks up someone he believes to be a singer in a bar. When he gets the gorgeous man onto the Falcon, he realises there’s more to the man than he first realised.Armitage Hux is a deserter, a traitor on the run from his murderous adopted sister. He sees in Ben one thing: an opportunity to escape a shitty job in a downmarket club for something else, somewhere else. Nicer.So how will Ben Solo react when he finds out that he has “rescued” the son of a notorious Imperial war criminal? And how will Armitage Hux respond when he finds out that the naive “pilot” he’s latched on to is the force-using son of a war hero and a republic senator?





	1. I Need a Hero

Ben Solo’s so busy convincing the amphibian-like barkeep to barter a bottle of something nice (or at least nicer than the throat-stripping liquor they serve ordinary patrons) for work in getting the air re-humidifiers working properly, that he doesn’t notice a performer sashay onto the small stage. It’s only when the music changes that he turns and gapes. The new act is tall, lithe and pale with copper hair and a shimmering green gown that sets off the colour of his heavily made-up eyes. Ben’s mesmerised.  
“Hey!” The barkeep punches his arm and Ben brushes it off. “You owe me labour. Control panels are all backstage. Keep the noise down.”  
Realising that being backstage means he gets to see more of the beautiful creature currently belting out the blues, Ben flashes a grin at the barkeep. In the far corner a trio of dockers take up the chorus and the performer acknowledges them with a slender hand and a sparkling smile that shows white teeth between coral lips. Ben has never wished harder that he was the one being pointed out. The barkeep punches him again and he slips backstage to find the re-humidifier control unit behind a panel obscured by piled up junk.

At the second crash, a haughty voice tells him to shut the fuck up and stop spoiling the show. Ben reddens and turns to apologise but the words dry in his mouth. He’s seen the beauty of Alderaan’s scenery in his mother’s memories when she let him look. He’s seen the beauty of hyperspace with his father so often that it has become ordinary. But he has never seen a human as beautiful as this close up.  
“Um,” he manages after an embarrassing delay. “Fixing... stuff.” He swallows and laughs with nerves. “Sorry.”  
“Well then,” the performer sighs and his scowl softens to a sneer. “See that you do it quietly or quickly. I’m back on stage soon.”  
Ben nods. The performer settles in a chair and picks up a mirror so that he can fix his fire-gold hair. A slender leg emerges from the opening of the gown and coral-painted toenails distract Ben from his work. He wants to pop one into his mouth just to see what might happen next, but the barkeep comes in bringing tarine tea and a credit chip. “Good tips tonight?” the performer asks.  
“No,” says the barkeep. “Bit of a mean lot tonight. You should do requests. That’d keep them spending at the bar while they wait for you to sing for them. Give you a cut.” The barkeep winks. “But your favourite customer’s here and asking for a private show. You done?”  
The last two words are directed at Ben. “Almost,” he says, head disappearing into the hatch.  
The barkeep puts a bottle on the floor beside him on his way past. “There’s your payment.”

“Thanks,” says Ben. “He’s right, you know. If you did requests I’d bet—“  
“Good thing my career decisions are not up for discussion,” snaps the reply. “Otherwise I might have to ask you to leave and that would be a shame since you’re so handsome.”  
“Oh. Sorry.” Ben processes the rest of the performer’s words. “Would it? Um. Am I?” Ben holds out a slightly grimy hand. “My name’s Ben. Pleased to meet you. I’m not really a handyman—well, I am I guess—but I’m really a pilot. I gave my credit chip to my droid to buy supplies for my ship.”  
The performer rummages in a bag and drops a damp wipe onto Ben’s hand. “My stage name is Starkiller but you can call me Armitage. A pilot? With his own ship, hmm?”  
“A freighter.” Ben holds the wipe while he powers up the re-humidifier unit then cleans his hands. From the bar comes a sigh of relief and a yell of thanks from the barkeep. Ben holds his hand out again and this time Armitage takes it and holds on.  
“You know,” says Armitage, “I’d consider taking requests if the clientele were a little more cultured. If Max Rebo hasn’t sung it, they don’t know it.”  
“Oh! Do you know any songs from Alderaan traditional musical theatre? If you’d sing something for me—“  
“It’ll cost you,” says Armitage.  
“Name your price,” replies Ben, stepping closer, voice a little more earnest than he intended. Armitage points at the bottle by Ben’s foot.  
“How about a drink and a ride to somewhere that isn’t here?” Armitage moves right into Ben’s personal space and lowers his voice. “I’m sick of working this dump.”  
Ben swallows and tries to concentrate over the electric feeling of raised hairs on his neck and the thump of his heart and the cloying heat of the space between them. He’s pinned by cool grey-green eyes. “We can leave,” he says quietly, “as soon as you’re ready.”  
Armitage leans down to pick up Ben’s bottle and his own bag. “In that case,” he says with a smile and a sideways nod, “the fire exit is just there. Perhaps I can sing for you in private.”

They slip out of the exit and find themselves in a narrow alley between the low buildings that crowd the spaceport. “Follow me,” Ben says, looking back to make sure he’s not going too fast for the singer’s impractical footwear. Once they get far enough away to feel unconnected to the slightly seedy bar, Armitage ducks into a doorway.  
“Stand there,” he instructs. “And don’t look.”  
Ben hears the soft rustle of fabric behind him. Eventually Armitage pushes past and Ben stares at the transformation. The elegant robe has been replaced by a worn but serviceable durasteel-grey uniform tunic and trousers. There’s a neat hole in the sleeve where a badge might have been and the faint stitch-mark ghosts of three bands ripped from the cuff. It makes the singer’s striking make up look out of place, but Ben gets the sense that the question ‘where did you get that outfit’ is off limits for now and he hurries to catch up then overtake. Soon they are at the landing pad. Ben points out his ship.

“What a heap of junk!” Armitage halts, staring in disbelief. “Are you sure this will fly?”  
“Hey!” Ben yells back at his new companion. “I’ll have you know the Falcon did the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs.”  
“When?” asks Armitage, eyebrows up. “Fifty years ago? No. More. I bet this ship was garbage long before your parents were born.”  
“You’re perfectly free to stay here,” says Ben with a scowl, “and watch me leave without you.”  
Armitage shakes his head, laughs and trots up the entry ramp after Ben. A gold coloured protocol droid greets Ben by scolding him about lateness then exclaims, “Oh, my! You should have informed me that we had a guest.”  
“Threepio, we have a guest,” says Ben. “He’s a singer. Happy now?”  
“Happiness is not for the likes of me,” says Threepio. “I exist to ser—“  
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Ben. “Can you set up the navcom? Our destination is...” Ben raises his eyebrows at Armitage.  
Armitage shrugs. “Away from here.”  
“I’m terribly sorry sir, but the navcom is going to need a little more direction than ‘away’. Could you perhaps be a little more specific?”  
“Fine,” says Ben. “Let’s go to the Hosnian System to pick up Han.”  
Threepio shuffles out to set the jump. Armitage balks. “The Hosnian System? That’s right in the centre of Republic space!”  
“Yes, and?” says Ben. “Where better to look for a job singing for people with more culture.”  
“I’m not...” Armitage sighs. “Stars, you actually think I’m just... I can’t go there, Ben.”  
“Why not? It’s perfect! We have a trip that lasts half a standard day to get to know each other and at the end I deliver you to the centre of the galactic government. Rich patrons everywhere.”  
“Republic patrons,” reminds Armitage.  
“And why is that a problem?” asks Ben. “Tell me the truth, Armitage, or get off my ship. Don’t worry. Some secrets are better out than in and I’ll know if you lie.”

Armitage shakes his head but makes no move for the exit. Ben settles into the pilot’s seat and tells Armitage to buckle up. Once they’ve negotiated clear of spaceport protocol and lurched into hyperspace, Ben turns back to Armitage.  
“Out with it, or I’ll read your memories and find out for myself. What are you hiding from?”  
Armitage laughs. “Oh stars. You think you’re some kind of Jedi or something?”  
“Not a Jedi,” admits Ben. “My uncle kicked me out of the Jedi training temple for being too, um, interested in the dark side. But I am a force user. Comes in handy when dealing with spaceport authorities and negotiating prices for goods and services.”  
“You... your uncle’s a Jedi? Kriff!” Armitage pieces together what little he remembers from war history classes. “The Falcon. Oh no. The Millennium Falcon was the ship that helped take down the Death Star. Piloted by Rebel General Han Solo. Sith! You’re picking up Han. We’re going to the centre of Republic space to pick up a karking war hero.”  
“Yes,” says Ben with a confused smile. “My father. My uncle is Luke Skywalker, my mother is Leia Organa and my grandfather—“  
“Darth Pfasking Vader!”  
“You surprise me,” says Ben with a smile. Armitage looks at him warily but Ben’s lounging in the pilot’s seat as if nothing mattered. “Not many people know that was his middle name.”

He doesn’t want to laugh but he can’t help it. Armitage wipes his eyes and makeup smears his hands. “This is a terrible situation,” he says.  
“There’s a ‘fresher back there if you need to clean up,” says Ben. “We’ll be in hyperspace for a while and you can tell me about yourself once you’re more comfortable.” Ben watches as Armitage unclips his harness and eases out of his seat. He yells directions to the ‘fresher and frowns out of the viewport. After a minute of contemplating the blue hyperspace trails, he calls to Threepio. “Hey, find out what you can about our guest. Name’s Armitage, probably an Imperial military background. Has no love for the Republic.”  
“Don’t bother.” Armitage is back in the cockpit, wiping his face with a towel. “I may as well tell you. Throw myself on your mercy. That sort of thing probably appeals to you.”  
He walks out again and Ben follows. They sit at the dejarik table while Armitage continues to clean off his makeup and Ben watches, skimming Armitage’s emotions and finding him both afraid and ready to strike, like a sandstinger caught in the nest of a sarlacc.  
“Due to a fluke of fate, by which I mean your side won,” says Armitage, glaring at Ben, “your father is a war hero while mine was a war criminal. My father was Commandant Brendol Hux of the Imperial Academy on Arkanis. He developed the Stormtrooper programme after the debacle with the clones.”  
“Kriff!” Ben sighs. “No wonder you’re nervous. But your father was the criminal. Not—”  
Something he reads from Armitage shows Ben a little of the truth before Armitage says anything more. “I was his shame, a lifelong disappointment to him. He came back from some trip with a replacement for me: some grateful young woman he’d found on a dying planet. She was supposed to keep me in line, and out of sight, and take over my position as his heir.”  
Armitage sits back and closes his eyes. Ben reaches out but thinks better of a mind reading and instead asks, “what happened?”  
“Oh?” Armitage smiles. “Turns out my adopted sister is ambitious, ruthless, and does not like being told what to do by a pathetic, nasty old bastard like Brendol any more than I like being sidelined and forgotten. We conspired to kill him. She turned on me afterwards so I fled.”  
“And where is she now?”  
“Who cares. Far away in the Unknown Regions probably, overseeing the rebuilding of the Stormtrooper programme while I, ah, sing for my supper. It’s a shame really. If I could have persuaded her to work with me we could have... well then. No point in what-ifs and could’ve-beens.”

Ben waits for another minute but he can tell Armitage is spent. He reaches across the table and takes Armitage’s hand. “I’m glad you told me all this,” says Ben. “You’ll be okay with me. I’ll keep you safe.” 

Ben puts his best effort into radiating calm certainty and Armitage seems to relax enough that Ben can divert their conversation onto lighter matters. After a while, Ben feels waves of fatigue roll over Armitage and he lowers his voice and uses a rhythmic cadence in his words the way his mother used to when she wanted him to sleep. There’s only the slightest touch of the force in it. Soon, Armitage’s head is nodding forwards and Ben can skim his mind without being intrusive. Floating right to the surface, with only the smallest influence from Ben, are some of Armitage’s memories of Brendol Hux. Eventually Armitage slips deeper into sleep. Ben shudders and retreats.  
“Hey, let me get you into bed,” Ben says softly. Armitage smiles.  
“Best offer I’ve had in ages,” Armitage says with slight slurring making his words merge. “But all I want is sleep.”  
“That’s fine,” reassures Ben. “We’ve got hours of hyperspace. Get some rest. Um.”  
“What?” Armitage rouses himself a bit and peers up at Ben.  
“The things you told me. About your father, at least. I don’t intend to tell anyone else.”  
“I knew it,” Armitage says with a laugh. “I know your type. You want to be my hero. That’s your favourite thing to do, right? Rescue strays?”  
“Let me rescue you as far as my bunk,” replies Ben. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”  
“Well then,” says Armitage, pushing himself up onto unsteady feet. “I suppose I can’t have everything.”  
Ben scoops Armitage up into his arms and carries him while Armitage shrieks then giggles. Ben grins. “In that case,” he says, “I should show you what I mean by gentlemanly behaviour.”

Ben deposits Armitage on his bunk and clambers up beside him. It’s wide enough for two, but narrow enough that they have to touch. Ben watches Armitage’s face for a moment and Armitage smiles. “How does a gentleman from the republic treat his guest, then?”  
Ben leans over and brushes his lips against Armitage’s. Armitage strokes Ben’s hair and they share soft kisses that grow increasingly urgent until Armitage pushes Ben off and suggests that the whole evening would be much more enjoyable if only they removed their clothing. They both stand and strip quickly then tumble back into the bunk. Armitage guides Ben to lie on his back and straddles his hips, but Ben shifts and somehow defies the normal rules of space and Armitage finds himself pinned beneath Ben. The pressure holding him down eases and Ben trails gentle kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Armitage shivers and goes still, but Ben stops and waits until Armitage looks at him again and smiles his permission. Ben smiles back and continues to trail kisses down Armitage’s chest and stomach. He knows what Armitage wants from him as soon as Armitage thinks it and he allows himself to be guided by Armitage’s unspoken desire. His hands and lips move over Armitage’s pale skin, tracing curves and hollows, nipping at sensitive spots until Armitage gasps and writhes, ducking down to plant a warm, open mouthed kiss on the wrinkled skin under Armitage’s balls, flicking his tongue over the seam that leads back to his entrance, then pulling away as he feels permission denied before he stops to ask for it. Instead he nuzzles at the crease between hip and thigh until Armitage sighs and relaxes once more. When Ben feels that Armitage is ready to move on, he licks the length of Armitage’s cock from base to head and sucks it into his mouth. Ben places both hands on Armitage’s hips to hold him still and silently offers to do all the work. Silently, Armitage desires it. Ben’s head swims with the images he picks up from Armitage’s thoughts and, for now, he pushes them all away. This glorious creature is, for the moment, his. Warmth fills Ben and he wonders if, given time, Armitage would learn to love him.

Armitage grunts a warning and comes, then falls asleep almost straight away. Ben laughs softly and holds him close, risking a deeper delve into Armitage’s memories—he can soothe away the ‘bad dream’ if Armitage wakes—and sees horrors that Armitage does not fully remember, or has actively tried to forget. He has no desire to sleep after that and eases his arm out from under Armitage’s head so that he can pad nude to the cockpit, shushing Threepio as he passes. He sends one message, heavily encrypted, to his mother’s emergency comm and hopes it’s enough. The Republic is far from perfect, but the scenes sneaked from Armitage’s memories are nightmarish and self-consistent enough to be based in truth.

Leia’s response is fast: Hosnian Prime. Need evidence. Bring him.

Although it feels like a choice between two betrayals, Ben feels weight drain from his limbs as he makes his decision. He walks back to his bunk and slips into the space behind Armitage, wrapping one arm around his waist. Armitage whimpers softly and Ben murmurs that it’s all going to be okay, just a dream, go back to sleep, you’re safe here. They both sleep soundly and don’t wake until Threepio rouses them one hour out from their destination. On waking, Ben kisses Armitage and sighs.  
“What’s wrong, loverboy?” asks Armitage. “Regrets? Don’t worry. They’ll fade.”  
“No.” Ben strokes Armitage’s hair and caresses the rough stubble dusting his cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I need to ask you to do something,” he says, “and you’re not going to want to do it. I’m sorry.”  
Armitage sits up and glares down at Ben. “Well then. Get it over with. I can handle anything you think you can throw at me. I’ve done things you’d—”  
“I believe you,” Ben blurts, recoiling internally from Armitage’s sudden hostile defensiveness. “It’s nothing... like that. I want you to meet with my mother. She’s a senator.”  
Armitage offers Ben a silent frown for a few seconds. “Ben, we met less than half a day ago and I’m not the sort of person you take home to mom and pop. Drop me off—“  
“No!” Ben smiles. “Not like that. I want you to tell her who you are, where you’re from and where to look in the Unknown Regions. You don’t have to tell her anything else.”  
“Well then,” Armitage says with a resigned sigh. Ben can tell that a decision has been made. “I suppose, if you must, take me to her.”

When they land, Ben is distracted and things happen so fast that as soon as Ben senses something is wrong, he’s on the ground clutching at a wound in his side and Armitage is gone.


	2. Somewhere after midnight

Armitage Hux runs, but not far because that would look suspicious. He keeps his head down and walks away from the spaceport making no eye contact. Ben warned him it was cold out and insisted on lending him a cowl so he’s got his hair and most of his face hidden. He’s expecting it any second: a shout, a yell that he’s been recognised, a sudden lurch into panic and another sprint, freedom gained by darting around the next few corners. But there’s nothing. He realises with liberating shock that nobody here cares who he is. He knows Ben is not seriously hurt and he doesn’t think Ben will bother to come after him. As he looks around for somewhere to clean the monomolecular blade that kept him alive at the Academy, Armitage realises with another shock that it is night when his body expects it to be late morning or early afternoon. He’s forgotten that travel makes time feel nonlinear. The clouds have thinned and the very brightest stars twinkle in a hazy, reddish sky through the glow of the city. He steals a few glances at the people still out, perhaps on their way from theatre to bar or from bar to home, and decides that maybe he can make a living here in the enemy’s lair after all. The contents of a couple of unguarded wallets will see him through the next couple of days.

Or so he thinks. As soon as he tries to use the first stolen credit chip he can tell by the look on the teller’s face that he has made a monumental error. He runs, but he can’t evade the store security and he’s writhing on the classy parquet flooring before he registers that he’s been stunned. Everything that happens next is a blur for Armitage until he comes round in a holding cell with his belt, boots and cowl removed and his wrists restricted by binders. He’s slumped on a bench next to someone who reeks of stale sweat. Opposite, he’s watched by a youngster with a permanent sneer and an elderly man who has the hardened looks of a clone-trooper.

Someone rattles the bars. “You there. Copperknob.” Armitage looks up reluctantly, with a disgusted scowl. “Get up, you mangy, ginger cur. Your owner showed to pay your fine and claim your pathetic ass.”  
The mouthy guard unlocks the holding cell while another aims a wide-range stun blaster at the rest of the occupants. Nobody moves except Armitage. He follows mouthy and is tailed by stun-gun to a processing room, where he waits to find out his fate. Of course Ben would blab. Ben, who promised him safety and got him to talk. Ben must have gone straight to the spaceport law enforcement and told them about how he was seduced by a nightclub whore who just happened to be a murderer. So he’s thrown when the door opens and a diminutive woman walks in and orders that his binders be removed.

“Sit,” she tells him and Armitage wants to obey.  
“Are you my defence counsel or something?” he asks once the scraping of chairs is over. She laughs.  
“Oh! Goodness, no.” Her face falls serious and she leans forward a little. “You won’t need that. Ben’s not pressing charges and the person whose credits you tried to spend happens to be a friend of mine. He’s trading his right to prosecute for anonymity. Han finds the whole idea of having had his pocket picked very embarrassing.”  
Armitage feels like he just died a little inside. “Han. Solo?” The woman looks on the verge of laughter. He shakes his head. “So, in my attempt to run from Ben, I steal his father’s wallet.” He puts his hands palm down, flat on the table. “The only thing that would make this entire experience worse would be if you turned out to be—“  
“Senator Leia Organa,” the woman says, offering her hand across the table. “Ben’s mother. Pleased to meet you, although I do wish you hadn’t shanked my son. We won’t speculate on whether or not he deserved it.”  
Armitage puts his hands over his face and shakes his head. “All I wanted,” he says, “was undemanding company and a ride to a new planet.” He brings his head up after a few seconds and frowns at Leia. “Ben’s okay, right?”  
“I’m glad you asked.” Leia nods. “He was pissed enough at you to tell me everything.” Armitage knows his face is going red. Leia laughs again. “Well,” she says, getting up. “Maybe not quite everything. Follow me and don’t try anything else stupid.”

Armitage accepts his fate for the moment because he sees no viable alternative. He follows Leia out of the room, takes the bag she thrusts at him in the hallway and soon he’s sitting in the back of a pod transport while she gives the droid driver an address and slots a credit chip into its reader. Armitage pulls out the cowl and he’s feeling along the fabric for the opening when his fingers close on something like a ridged plastoid button. He looks closer, holding it up as the pod passes under a streetlight.  
“Ben put a tracker on me!”  
“Of course he did,” says Leia. “He said he thought you might bolt.”

The rest of the journey is excruciating. Armitage lets his mind ply him with possible scenarios that all end with him being thrown back in a cell or, worse, shipped back to the Unknown Regions for Phasma to find. But when the pod slows to a stop and Leia tells him to get out, he’s ushered inside an unremarkable house, led to a dining room and offered food. Leia calls out a hello and someone walks stiffly out carrying a tray and sets it down on the table.  
“Ben?” Armitage waits for Ben to look at him. He’ll be hurt or vengeful and Armitage doesn’t know which would be worse. In fact Ben looks amused.  
“You stabbed me and ran,” Ben says, protecting his side with his hand as he sits down. “Guess you don’t trust me. I told Leia about the stormtroopers and how your adopted sister killed your father and you ran to save your life.”  
“You...” Armitage frowns at Ben’s partial lie. “You promised not to tell.”  
“Sorry,” Ben says with a shrug. “You hungry?”  
Leia pulls the tray away and bangs the table. Ben and Armitage both jump. “Thing about us Skywalkers,” she says with a scowl, “is that we can smell banthashit from three parsecs away. I can’t believe you forgot that fact, Ben. Now, start again. The truth, this time.”

Ben and Armitage look at one another. Ben shrugs and sighs. “It’s like I said yesterday,” he says. “Truth’s better out than in.” He looks at Leia and points at his temple. “You want to look? See for yourself?”  
“No,” Leia says. “I just want you to trust your mother.”  
Ben nods and reaches for Armitage’s hand under the table. Surprised, Armitage squeezes Ben’s fingers. Ben tells Leia everything except how he’d made Armitage forget for a while that he was a deserter. When it’s his turn, Armitage looks into Leia’s eyes and shakes his head.  
“I can’t tell you everything,” he says. “But I won’t lie to you.”  
“Just as well,” Leia replies with an undertone of sarcasm. “I’d know. Eat first. We wouldn’t want hunger clouding your memory.” She pushes the tray back within reach and Ben serves himself, Leia and Armitage some tea and sweet fruit pie.

Armitage doesn’t know where to begin. Leia rolls her eyes and suggests _at the beginning_ so he describes a childhood spent in the shadow of a brutal father who barely acknowledged him. He speaks of how he’d survived by his wits, then the upheaval of a desperate flight to the Unknown Regions where the remnants of the Empire awaited its rebirth as The First Order.  
“Your father oversees the stormtrooper programme?” Leia asks for clarification.  
“Not any more,” Armitage says. “I would have taken over after his death but his adopted daughter, Phasma, is the one in charge now.”  
“Phasma. The one who wanted you dead too.”  
“Yes.” Armitage sips his tea.  
“How did your father die, Armitage?” Armitage stares at Leia. Leia nods. “I see.”  
“No!” Armitage’s face twists into a grimace and he thinks he might lose his temper. “You do not see. You do not see how—“  
Armitage yelps at the burning sensation in his fingers. He looks down to see Ben holding his hand in both of his. Ben smiles at him then looks at Leia.  
“Mom, it’s somewhere after midnight. Maybe we can finish this tomorrow?”  
Leia stares him down. “Not a chance,” she says, then turns her raptor-like attention back to Armitage. “Armitage, you were going to tell me where you were taken in Unknown Space. Believe me, it won’t be new information. Just further confirmation of what we already suspect.”

Armitage feels wrung out by the time Leia seems satisfied and leaves. Ben is still holding his hand.  
“Well then,” says Armitage. “Are you going to get revenge, or was that it?”  
“What?” Ben seems genuinely nonplussed. “Whatever for?”  
“I stabbed you,” Armitage reminds. “In case you forgot why your side hurts.”  
“Oh!” Ben laughs then stills his features into a solemn expression. “Believe me, if our positions were reversed I would have done far worse to you.” Armitage can’t tell whether Ben is serious or not, so he laughs and Ben smiles at him. “You tired?” asks Ben. Armitage nods. “Come with me.”  
Ben gets up and pulls Armitage by the hand. Armitage shakes him off.  
“I’m not about to run again,” he says. “I just sold out my former comrades for tea and pie. Where would I possibly go?”  
“I don’t know,” Ben says, turning round on the stairs to grin at Armitage. “That’s why I’m putting a tracker in your pyjamas.”

Ben stops at a white-painted door. “This is yours. I’m next door. This is a safe house, so if you leave you’ll be followed and if anyone tries to get in we’ll be alerted.”  
“A safe house?” Armitage feels a tingle of fear, imagining a squadron of stormtroopers surrounding the property, dragging him out, and chrome-clad Phasma waiting with a blaster or, worse, one of those disgusting, venomous beetles they used on Brendol to give him a torturous, slow, inevitable, messy death. He gasps out, “who knows we’re here?”  
“Apart from Leia? Only Han,” says Ben with a laugh. “You stole his wallet and he’s not going to forget that.”  
“Well then,” says Armitage, gripping the doorknob so hard his knuckles whiten and breathing deeply in relief, “he shouldn’t carry it in his back pocket.”  
But Armitage still feels the insistent creep of fear that he will be found here, dragged away and tried as a traitor. His memory flashes up all the show trials he’s seen, all the executions that First Order officers and troopers were forced to watch, and he shivers. Ben picks up on it immediately.  
“Armitage, you’re safe here. I promise.”  
Armitage glares at Ben. “I think I have a touch of deja vu.”  
That silences Ben. Armitage twists the doorknob and Ben takes a few steps away to the next room. Armitage looks up to see Ben watching him.  
“Ben Solo,” Armitage says. “I trusted you and look where it got me. All I wanted was a friend for a few hours and a free ride somewhere nicer. Instead I got...” he shrugs and indicates the general surroundings with his free hand. “All this!”  
Ben nods. “I’m sorry. It must be pretty overwhelming, I guess.” He takes a step closer to Armitage, quietly and carefully in case Armitage might take flight like a startled fawn. “I never meant for it to get this intense. I thought you wanted free of them. I thought you wanted to be...”  
Ben shrugs. Armitage sighs. “Rescued?”

Ben’s silent. Armitage shakes his head and goes into his bedroom. It’s basic but comfortable with nightwear and a towel laid out, and a selection of bland clothing in a range of sizes in the drawers. There’s a ‘fresher unit too. Armitage strips out of his battered, old uniform and drops it on the floor before walking into the ‘fresher with only his towel. He’s surprised to find the water running already and warm vapour clouding the air. Movement and a voice alerts him to the fact that this ‘fresher is shared between two rooms and it is already in use. Ben’s head pokes out from the shower enclosure, and he looks delighted. “Are you going to join me?”  
Armitage thinks he should turn around and walk out, lock the door and get into bed. Armitage thinks he should put distance between himself and Ben, maybe ask Leia if she’d move him far away in exchange for more information. But he also thinks Leia and Ben between them will probably get information from him anyway. He thinks he should be more angry with Ben for his betrayal, and more mistrustful of Ben’s claim not to want revenge.

“It’s okay,” Ben says, stepping clear of the unit, completely nude and dripping water from his luscious hair. Armitage watches a rivulet course down Ben’s chest. “You can have it now.”  
“Wait!” Armitage is barely aware that he has spoken. Ben stares and Armitage stares back. There’s a pink line where his blade entered. Armitage steps close enough to reach out and trace the scar. “You heal fast.”  
“I just took off the bacta patch,” says Ben. “I always carry some. In case I get shanked.”  
Armitage closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m not sorry. You screwed me over, Ben.”  
“I know.” Ben sits on the edge of the bath. “I didn’t mean to. Look—”  
“I trusted you. You made me think you—” Armitage bites his lip and looks away. He fights down the tears. Weak willed, he thinks. Thin as a slip of paper and twice as useless.  
“You’re not!” Ben is on his feet and standing right in front of Armitage. “Don’t you dare believe that!” Armitage stares, open mouthed. Ben blinks rapidly. “You’re one of the strongest people I have ever met. You’re incredible. Armitage, a survivor. Just think about everything you have overcome to end up here.”  
Armitage holds his ground. He looks at Ben, barely an inch taller but so much more powerful. “Here,” he says with a sneer. “Me, a son of the Empire. Here. With a fucking Republic-born mind reader.”  
“It’s not intentional,” Ben says quietly. “It just happens. When your emotions are high, I feel it. I see it. Like a vision or a voice in my head. Telling me—”  
“Telling you what I want?” Armitage yells. “Is that how you... Fuck. I should have known you were no better than—“  
“—all the rest?” says Ben. “All the others who treated you as disposable? Armitage I never intended... I wanted... ”  
Armitage gives Ben his best stony expression. “What. You wanted what.”  
“I wanted to take you away from it all. I want.. I want you to feel safe.” Ben looks down. “With me. I want you to know that you are always safe with me.”  
Armitage feels his resolve crumble. Ben feels it too but holds himself at arms’ length.  
“I hate this,” admits Armitage. “I hate being a deserter. I hate being a traitor. I hate being at your fucking mercy.”  
“Tomorrow,” says Ben, “if you like, I will take you wherever you ask to go and leave you there and never look for you again.”  
Armitage shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “That would be worse. You know I’m caught and it’s your doing. I hate you, Ben Solo.”  
Ben looks stricken. He takes one step backwards, turns and walks into his own bedroom. Armitage gets in the shower and sets it to cool. It gives him time to think.

When he comes out, he goes into Ben’s room. There’s a lump under the blanket and Armitage sits beside it. “Ben, I don’t... I don’t blame you. Not really. My life is a karking sarlacc pit and that’s not your fault.” Armitage bites at his lip for a few seconds. “Or mine, really. We’re just who we’re made to be.”  
The lump shifts. A face emerges under damp, tousled hair and Armitage wants to laugh but he’s afraid that if he starts he might not stop.  
“How can I fix this?” Ben asks.  
“You can’t,” replies Armitage. “But you can help me make the best of it.”  
“How?”  
“Let’s sleep on it,” says Armitage. “And talk in the morning. Move over.”  
Ben stretches out and holds the covers up for Armitage. Armitage pulls the towel from his waist and lies beside Ben. He rests his head on Ben’s shoulder and slides his arm around Ben’s waist.  
“You’re nude,” Ben observes, stroking Armitage’s back. “A beautiful, naked, amazing man just got into my bed.”  
“I refuse to wear trackable PJs,” he says, and Ben laughs.

Armitage expects Ben to be demanding this time, now he needs a favour and he’s at Ben’s mercy, but he’s surprised by the gentleness of Ben’s touch. Ben does nothing until Armitage moves first, starting with a hand that slips from waist to hip and lips that press to Ben’s jaw. Ben turns and ducks to kiss Armitage’s lips softly and rests a large, warm hand over the crest of Armitage’s hipbone. Armitage sighs deeply and blinks back tears at the lack of heat from Ben.  
“Don’t you want me?” he asks. “You could take—”  
Ben’s arms wrap him tightly then Ben’s voice is in his ear, low and soft. “More than anything,” he says. “But only if it’s what you want too.”  
Armitage is silent for a minute.  
“Last time,” he says, “on your ship. You knew what I needed.”  
Ben groans and releases Armitage. He covers his eyes with one hand. “I am trying not to do that again,” he says. “You didn’t know. It was wrong.”  
“Well then,” Armitage says, placing a hand in the centre of Ben’s chest then levering himself across to straddle Ben’s thighs. He leans forward, feeling Ben shift under him. “I’m giving you informed pfassking consent to read my karking mind now.”

He feels it this time: the slightest sensation in his head as if there’s something hovering on the periphery of his senses. He wonders why he didn’t feel it before.  
“You were exhausted,” Ben replies as soon as the question forms in Armitage’s head. “And in a highly emotional state.”  
“Oh,” Armitage says, then smiles. He directs his thoughts to an image of Ben above him, a remembered feeling of soft lips on his and warm hands on his skin. Ben smiles and rolls them both over until Armitage has his back on the sheet. Ben kisses him and cups his face, then strokes his hand down Armitage’s neck and shoulder. Armitage feels the tickle of a fingertip across his collarbone and lets his mind wander. Ben pauses for a second and when he kisses Armitage again, Armitage can feel Ben smile behind it.  
“You want that?”  
“Mmhmm.”  
“You didn’t on the Falcon.”  
“And now I do.”  
“Okay.”  
Ben kisses down Armitage’s chest and stomach like last time. He eases Armitage’s thighs apart with his knee, slides down the bed, and sinks his head to kiss and nip at the crease of Armitage’s hip. Armitage takes a sharp breath in when warm heat envelopes the head of his cock for a second then moans a complaint when Ben releases him. Ben laughs, warm breath over Armitage’s balls. Armitage sits up, grabs a handful of Ben’s hair and pulls him into a heavy kiss. He smooths Ben’s hair down again and pats his cheek, then lies back. Ben lifts Armitage’s knees and his head vanishes between them. Armitage closes his eyes: he can still feel Ben’s presence when he looks for it, but now he’s distracted by worries that Ben will look deeper, see that he’s worthless and be repelled by him.

The edge-of-reality feeling vanishes and Ben is above, looking into his face.  
“I won’t. You’re not. I’m not.”  
Armitage sighs. “Sorry. I thought it would be easier this way. Sexy, I suppose. But it’s not.” He looks down at his softening cock. “I can’t relax when I know you’ll see things I don’t want you to.”  
“Then I will stay out of here,” Ben says, caressing Armitage’s head. “If I do something you don’t like, you’re just going to have to tell me to stop.”  
The feeling in his head is gone, Armitage realises, and Ben is kissing the inside of his thigh, waiting. Armitage swallows and looks at the ceiling. He’s sure this won’t work, that in a few minutes he’ll make up some excuse and go back to his own room. “Well then,” he says. “Let’s see what you can do.”  
Ben puts his lips against the sensitive skin behind Armitage’s balls and hums. Armitage grips the pillow behind his head and gasps. Ben laughs. “I don’t need to be a mind reader to know you like that,” he says.  
“You could talk less,” replies Armitage, hitching his knees a little higher.  
Ben teases the point of his tongue around Armitage’s balls then down and back to his entrance. Armitage feels the slick, soft warmth, then a tingle under the base of his cock. He angles his hips better and Ben’s hands massage his backside for a few seconds before holding him exposed. The slick warmth returns and Armitage stifles a cry with his hand as he feels Ben’s tongue flick over his hole then push inside him. There’s something more, he realises after a minute of glorious sensation. Ben’s hot mouth is gone and Armitage misses it despite the finger easing into him, then the mouth is back, enveloping one of his balls and sucking at it gently. Armitage makes a sound he’s sure is disgusting but Ben only huffs a laugh around his other testicle and makes him twitch.  
“I swear I’ll come if you even breathe on me too hard,” Armitage says. Ben pulls back and stills his finger for long enough that the exciting heat in Armitage’s groin dissipates just a little. Armitage sighs in pleasure and Ben sinks down again and takes the head of Armitage’s cock into his mouth and hums around it. There’s no stopping this time despite Armitage grabbing two fistfuls of Ben’s hair. Ben hums and plays his tongue just over the head of Armitage’s cock, grasps and strokes the shaft with his free hand and crooks the finger in Armitage’s hole until Armitage is a gibbering, sobbing mess.

Ben eases up slowly. Armitage winces as Ben’s finger slips out and Ben apologises.  
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think to bring lube.”  
“So you’re a mind reader but you can’t see the future,” Armitage says. Ben laughs. “While you were in here earlier,” Armitage taps his temple, “did you happen to see any of the acts I thought about performing on you?” Ben goes silent. Armitage frowns at him. “Well?”  
“Um. Later?” Ben says. “We’re still... connected. Just barely!” Ben says hastily, blocking when he senses Armitage’s flash of ire. “Just enough to pick up on your emotions. Not enough for me to see anything. But I, um, came when you did.”

Ben’s up early. He wakes Armitage with a kiss and a stroke of his hair. Armitage pretends to be asleep but Ben’s not fooled.  
“I know you’re awake,” he says. “It’s early but there’s a caf dispenser downstairs. Want me to bring you some?”  
Armitage groans his assent and Ben thunders downstairs. He comes back a few minutes later with two steaming cups. Armitage watches him with a smile.  
“You’re still naked,” he says.  
“Yes,” replies Ben. “There’s only us here. For now.”  
“What’s going to happen today?” Armitage asks as he sits up and accepts a cup.  
“Up to you.” Ben shrugs. “Leia’s plan is to get you to make a holo statement for the senate then have you escorted to another safehouse, probably not on Hosnian Prime and she probably won’t tell me where, to wait out the intel from the probe droids she’s requested.” Ben sits beside Armitage, cool thigh pressed against Armitage’s bed-warm skin. “The senate is as responsive as a luggabeast so I think that will take too long.”  
“You have a better idea?” Armitage asks, eyebrow cocked, cup paused on its way to his lips.  
“Yes,” says Ben. “I think you and I should take the Falcon to the Unknown Regions and have a look for ourselves. Leia will never agree to it and Han would go nuts, so I strongly suggest we leave before they are aware of it.” Armitage sips his caf and regards Ben with a cool stare. Ben reddens a little. “If, that is, you’re up for it. I only mean we should take a few recordings and run for it. I do not intend to pit the Millennium Falcon against the entire First Order. She’s a runner, not a fighter.”  
“So,” says Armitage after a minute, “one option is for me to sit around here waiting to be officially dealt with by the republic senate. The other is to go gallivanting across the kriffing galaxy with a force-wielding naturist on some under-planned, wampa-brained mission.”  
“Um,” Ben says. “Yes.”  
Armitage sets his cup down and gets out of bed. He stretches and yawns then nods at Ben.  
“How soon can we leave?”


End file.
